


More of a Gray Area

by hl_gray



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Rizzoli & Isles
Genre: Angst, Crime, F/F, Family, Family Drama, Family Fluff, Fluff, Humor, Mystery, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-07 14:30:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12843162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hl_gray/pseuds/hl_gray
Summary: Emma Swan was five years old when a family adopted her again. Despite the issues being an adopted child cause someone, this family trusted Emma and never gave up on her. As she now builds a life in Storybrooke, a case brings her back in touch with the family she grew up in. Maybe, this would be the silver lining she’s waiting for her whole life: to complete all the pieces that would make her whole after all these years.Regina Mills lived a lifetime seeking for two things: family and love. Her whole life, she’s convinced that she’s cursed, and she would never have her happy ending. She knows all the decisions she made were wrong. But, was she really to blame? She knows one thing for sure: when she decided to adopt, things started to finally look up. While the love she found in her son seems to be enough, could she push fate and wish for the ultimate happy ending in her life?With all the cases they faced together and the struggles that came along with them, Jane Rizzoli and Maura Isles should have had enough. They were close to their happy ending, living their lives together, beside each other. Then, a certain blonde reappears in Jane’s life, breaking through the black and white world they are content living in.





	1. Midnight at Storybrooke

**Author's Note:**

> All the characters in this story aren't mine. They belong to the creators of "Once Upon A Time" and "Rizzoli and Isles." I hold no claim in this work, only the plot and dialogues the characters say.

_As I entered, I felt something shift. It was as if every single cell of my body was relocated. As if every part of me was reprogrammed. I felt like a new person and I felt invincible. And I like it. I love feeling as if I’m the most powerful of all beings in this world._

Leroy’s throat was bored. No new crisis, no new villain, making his voice of no use. Although the savior and the former evil queen and the rest of the heroes relish every peaceful moment, Leroy chugs down every single drink inside the Rabbit Hole in frustration. No crisis means no shouting of warnings. One could say that he fits in the medieval times’ _town crier_. Well, to be fair, the people of Storybrooke were all medieval, so there’s no questioning that. In Leroy’s mind, he’s only two things in this town: _the town crier_ and _the drunkard_. Although he enjoys chugging down endless amount of alcohol (because, who wouldn’t, right?), he still prefers being inclined to something that was of great use for the whole town. He likes to think that, at least, he helps. He is of value to the heroes and people of Storybrooke. He prefers to be remembered as someone who had a, somewhat, vital role in saving the town rather than someone who had his more than fair share of experience behind the bars inside the police station due to being wasted all day.

When he dies, he prefers the people to reminisce his memory because _no one would warn them about the new villain anymore_ rather than the people reveling over the fact that there’s _no more drunkard to avoid and worry about_.

Now, as he tipped his head backwards, face towards the sky, while walking down the deserted roads of midnight Storybrooke, he’s savoring the moment of numbness caused by his beer. As far as he’s concerned, he’s the only one walking under the vastness of the black sky. His body seems to be swaying; therefore, his feet were stumbling over the other. But, with the alcohol being circulated all over his body, it’s as if he’s walking perfectly straight and all the nightmares in the world had been chased away by Sandman. The night for him turned into a sunny day, and the birds were once again alive.

Right before he could even take a step nearer the clock tower, he tilted his head backwards once more, only for it to remain that way. Before he knew it, he was down on the ground, choking over the blood flooding inside his body. The last thing that registered into his mind was the Storybrooke’s midnight air blowing over his body, making his overly wet shirt cold against his chest.


	2. Tying Knots, Budding Relationships, and Unbreakable Bonds

“Rizzoli.”

            Maura Isles immediately looked at Jane Rizzoli. Her wife of one day received a call, probably of homicide. Two things came into her mind: 1) _How come she gets a call and I don’t?_ 2) _Why does she get a call when it’s supposed to be our vacation?_

            Maura stared intensely at her silent phone. _Ring, damn it._ She glared at it for five seconds, and it did nothing. Jane had already ended the call and hers didn’t even move. She doesn’t know to whom her anger was directed: to the universe, to everyone in Boston Police Department, to that murderer who decided to murder right now, or to Jane, for even daring to answer the phone call knowing that it’s their vacation and _first day_ as married couple.

            She became aware of Jane hanging up. But, through her peripheral vision, she saw how Jane brought her cell phone back to her ear again, now seemingly waiting for the other line to pick up. She felt white hot anger form in her throat. Maybe this irrationality is one of the leakages of the overwhelming emotions their wedding caused her. Over the last few weeks before their wedding took place, both she and Jane were very much agitated. They didn’t get “cold feet,” no. But, they did became frustrated towards each other over all the decisions to be made for their wedding event. Jane wants this, Maura wants the other. It’s always been like that. Finally, everyone that’s involved in their wedding, the people that surround them, took over and decided for the both of them, based on how well they knew both women.

            Turns out, all those people truly love and care for them, truly _know_ them enough to design the perfect wedding for both Maura and Jane that would surely suit both extremities.

            Maura once again glanced at her wife while pouring coffee on both of their mugs. “Who was that?” Maura feigned innocence. As she turned her back to her wife (she’ll never get tired of saying that, though), she heard the other slam her cell phone on the counter. Well, at least Maura’s aware that she’s not the only one feeling agitated by everything in this world.

            Maura felt arms sneaking around her waist. She set down the coffee pot and sighed, knowing full well that there’s a 95% she wouldn’t like what her wife’s gonna say.

            “I’m sorry,” muttered Jane as she placed a soft kiss on the crook of Maura’s neck.

            “Just spit it out, Jane,” said Maura as she glared at the window pane in front of her. It’s 8 in the morning, which is really late for her and Jane to have their coffee. In Boston work days, the two of them were already up at 5 in the morning, then they’re off to work minutes before 7. Now that they’re on vacation, they could wake whenever they want. It’s just the first day and things are not looking that bright in their future.

            Maura felt Jane’s arms loosen, indicating she should turn around. She did. Her eyes landed on Jane’s, hating that those eyes alone could dissipate any form of anger she’s feeling inside. One thing that makes marrying Jane reasonable. Only the woman in front of her could make her grounded, whatever crazy thing she’s feeling or thinking.

            “Emma called BPD so BPD called me,” Jane started. Maura’s expression changed from slight anger to curiosity.

            “Emma? Emma Swan? Your sister,” asked Maura, searching Jane’s eyes. Jane nodded. Maura is very much aware of the complications the Rizzoli family has with Emma. Specifically, with Jane. Although Maura knows how much Angela Rizzoli loves Emma Swan, she knows how Jane and Frankie feel about Emma. It’s the same with how they feel about Tommy. Both Emma and Tommy, as opposed to Jane and Frankie, had been… troubled. Maybe it’s the universe’s funny way of showing balance in the Rizzoli family.

            “After five years.” Jane shook her head. “You do know how much I hate her, right?” Jane mumbled, closing her eyes. Between Emma and Jane, Maura is very much aware of the exaggeration both possess.

            “Yes, and I do know how much you love her.” Maura smirked, knowing that the idea of Emma alone drains the life out of Jane. Maybe one could say that the adopted child of Frank and Angela Rizzoli had been a roller coaster ride for the whole family. “So, tell me, what’s all this about?”

            “Just know that before they called me, a lot has happened. A lot, to the point that it already reached Ma.” Maura winced at this. Anything Angela would know about Emma would surely cause every people around the old woman trouble. “Emma called BPD hoping to talk to me and ask for help about a case in wherever the hell she is. Then, Korsak was informed, then Frankie, then Ma heard. Apparently, in wherever the hell that woman is, there’s something weird happening. You know Ma. She demanded I go there—“

            “Angela wouldn’t do that. She knows very well that we’re on our vacation.” Right when Maura entered the lives of the Rizzoli was the point when Emma Swan had disappeared. A few calls here and there were enough for the Rizzolis to know that the blonde was still alive. Maura’s character profile of Emma had only been based on stories and pictures from the Rizzoli family. Well, mostly from Angela. Everyone knows how much the woman’s children were all she talks about.

            “Well, she did. She’s demanding the both of us to go wherever the hell Emma is because the whole gang is going.” Maura frowned. Was her brain losing some of its functions to not fully understand what Jane’s talking about?

            As if her wife caught on with her cluelessness (which was very much foreign for Maura), Jane expounded what she’s saying. “I’m saying that Ma told me that we’re going with them to wherever Emma is. If we refuse, she’s gonna kidnap us while we’re sleeping peacefully so that when we wake up, we’re already there. Meaning, we don’t have any choice but to comply.”

            “But, didn’t you tell me that Emma wants your help for a case?”

            “Damn right. One proof Ma loves that blonde more than me. She’s willing to risk her entire family’s life just to see that ugly duckling,” Jane feigned self-deprecation. Maura just raised an eyebrow at her wife. She’s heard about how Jane always teases Emma and calls her “ugly duckling.” Then, Emma retaliates by chasing her older sister and shouting “girly-Janie-whiny.” While Jane tells the stories about how she always overpowers and beats (not physically) Emma, Angela always defends the blonde’s name by talking about how the younger child looks up to Jane and always strives to be like her despite Emma’s own issues. Jane suspiciously becomes quiet and misty eyed when Angela starts to talk about Emma looking up to her. Maybe, that’s one thing that assure Maura how despite the mask Jane wears about being the cruel big sister to Emma, the brunette loves her sister just as much as the blonde annoys her.

            “You know that isn’t true.”

            “Oh, I do know that Ma loves me more than she loves Emma. But, it’s true that Emma’s an ugly duckling. And when we go there, I’m surely gonna shove it on her face.”

 

“One thing’s for sure. That killer has a fetish for male genitalia, throats, and possibly dwarves,” Emma Swan said as she popped a fry in her mouth. She smirked as she saw Regina Mills roll her eyes. “I’m speaking based on evidences, your majesty.”

            “I’m sure you are, Sherriff Swan.” The mayor once again scanned the files holding the information from the crime scenes. In just a week, two dwarves had been killed: Grumpy and Bashful. Despite the fact that they’re both dwarves, Emma saw no connection between the two. Based on her observation, no magic is involved in killing Leroy and Sleepy. It was just as normal as murders go in the world outside Storybrooke. Although, this was just hers. Regina and the rest of the town were fully set on the fact that there’s a new villain in town. And, this villain hides in the shadows. Henry even went as far as theorizing how the villain is the Boogie man.

            “You’re still not mad, are you?” Emma asked after some time, observing how the mayor had been pointedly ignoring her as they ate their lunch. They had been doing this ever since Emma and Henry went back from New York and regained their memories. Both she and Regina chose to make an effort on being civilized with one another for the sake of Henry. It’s all about Henry. Everything is about Henry. Maybe, when Emma has repeated that enough in her own mind, she’d eventually believe it.

            “Do I still think that calling people outside the town for help, never mind that they are the part of the force, is stupid? Yes, I do,” snapped Regina. Had her eyes been where her fireballs emanate, Regina would have turned Emma into ashes.

            “I know it’s not a smart move. But, believe me, Regina. Those killings don’t scream all fairytale _villain-y_ to me. They scream outside world cold-blooded homicide. I know because I’ve seen cases like this that Janie handled. This kind of crimes isn’t about magic or power-over-everyone. It’s psychopath killing. Some crazy ass dude is on a roll, on a killing spree, and you’re turning a blind eye on it.”

            Regina held Emma’s blazing eyes blankly. Of course, everything Emma says makes sense. No matter how many hearts she has taken, no matter how many people she killed, this kind of killing doesn’t make sense to her. Maybe, she’s just in denial that something like this happened under her watch. She has been the mayor of this town ever since it was created. And despite subjecting the people in it to eternal doom where happy endings don’t exist, a psychopathic, without magic, related crimes and psychotic killer on the loose doesn’t sit well on her books.

            “Do I consider that the one killing is a psychopath? Yes. Is he or she, in your words, on a ‘killing spree?’ I do think so, yes. But, Miss Swan, you have to keep in mind: our town is filled with, what you call, ‘fairytale people.’ So, no, I won’t eliminate the probability that what’s threatening the lives of my people is related to magic, to ‘fairytale’ world, and to villains. You didn’t spend your entire life trudging the Enchanted Forest so you have no idea how much darkness, how much evil, that place holds for you to just ‘turn a blind eye’ on the possible list of villains that may be scouring every dwarf in this town.”

            Emma could have applauded Regina for turning her own words back to her. Had this not been as serious as it is, she would have commented about the fact that they won’t ever agree with each other because of the various environmental influences they both grew up in. She would have ranted about how they should just “agree to disagree” as her speculation was that, they would never see each other eye to eye as their cultural backgrounds rest on both extremities of the spectrum. That is, if they even rest on the same spectrum. Surely, living in literally different realms exceeds the knowledge the academe holds about complexities of human, society, and human nature.

            “Well, one thing’s for sure. I sure am very much thankful you cast a curse which caused me to live in this world. I think I prefer dealing with nomaj people than ogres and medieval settings,” Emma said, taking a bite of her burger.

            “Nomaj?” Regina frowned. Trust Emma to be able to stir a conversation smoothly. Or was it smooth? Regina had no idea, for as much as she holds an impressive record about her achievements in this world (some forged, in order to establish a legitimate and acceptable background), she holds no certifications or gold medals for being a great at socializing.

            “Harry Potter, Regina. Gosh, if I hadn’t known any better, I would really question if Henry’s really living in your place.”

            “Excuse me?” Regina exclaimed. Clearly, anything that involves Henry and motherhood and anything related to that is still a sore subject for the mayor.

            “What I mean is, Henry lives with you. And, no offense but, our son’s a dork. Surely, you’d be familiar with Marvel references or Sci-fi references with all the books and movies that kid had read and watched.” Regina frowned, thinking of Henry’s habits. Though she’d been quite familiar with a few, she had never really been interested in the books or movies Henry read and watch. She delves more to classical books, and, as much as she hates to admit, romantic tragedy and romantic comedy movies. She knows she bought those comic books and paid for those movies, but that’s just for Henry’s hobbies and not hers.

            Before Regina could say something, someone sat beside her. “Hi, moms!”

            “Hi, kid.” Emma smiled. But, it immediately turned into abhorrence when Henry stole pieces from her fries while saying, “Oh, thanks, Ma. I’m _starving_.”

            “Hey!” Regina rolled her eyes at the blonde’s childishness. That’s one quality of Emma that proves how their chemistry in raising Henry was perfect. Emma could deal with making their son feel that his parents do not control him and that he lives in a home where he knows he is treated an equal and not inferior to his parents. Regina, on the other hand, deals with disciplining the teenager and setting ground rules. Though, in rare times, their “specific” roles change. But, as said, that happens rarely.

            “Seriously, Miss Swan.”

            “Emma, mom.” Regina turned to her son in surprise. The teenager gave his brunette mother a pointed look. Who was the parent now? Regina sighed and looked at Emma, who was grinning widely, as if her face would split in two.

            “Emma.” The blonde gave a whoop, and a “way to go, kid!” Regina had to hold back the adoring smile breaking through her tough demeanor when the mother and son high-fived each other, with Henry stealing a couple more fries from his mother’s plate.

            Right when Henry was telling Ruby his orders (in which Regina butts in from time to time in order to minimize the fats her son’s ordering), Emma’s cell phone rang.

            “Emma Swan.” When Regina looked at Emma, she saw a range of emotions pass the blonde’s face. First was surprise, then elation, then panic, then pure horrification. The blonde was trembling when she ended the call, staring into space as she set the device down. The blonde’s face drained color, her breathing pattern ragged.

            “Miss Swan?”

            “Ma? Are you okay?”

            Emma looked at the two brunettes in front of her. Had she not been in the middle of panicking, she would have laughed at how identical the faces of Regina and Henry were. One proof that both are really mother and son and difference in blood doesn’t stand a chance on their strong connection.

            “Oh, God.” Emma repeated over and over again as she held her head on her hands. “ _Oh, God._ ”

            “What is it?” Regina couldn’t suppress the edge and annoyance in her voice. The blonde’s lack of response was getting on her nerves, and Emma looking like she’s on the verge of fainting do little to appease her annoyance.

            “They’re coming,” Emma whispered, but it was loud enough for both the brunettes in front of her to hear. Regina’s eyes widened.

            “The Boston Police?!” She shrieked, shocking the other two occupants of the booth with the highness of the note she was able to produce.

            Emma shook her head, face wincing, probably at the gravity of the situation.

            “Worse.”


	3. A Vital Pleasure, A Gradual Growth of Power

_When it courses through your veins, when power mixes with your blood, you will feel invincible. Just like I do. I took a deep breath, breathing in the cold winds of Maine. There was something all too addicting about being the invisible hunter. And I know I was one. I know I am a hunter. I know I am predator, who just had to choose the perfect catch for the day. I may not eat, but I kill. I take lives with my hands, I take lives through the extension of my body. When I do, I found immense pleasure._

_One of the beautiful things a human body does is its own organization. And I guess, that’s one thing humans as entities seek for, and what humans as a society long for. Disrupting coherence and organization makes my heart beat faster, and I guess, chaos has been my dream mistress for so long. I feel that adrenalin rush whenever I disrupt coherence. I feel my body elevating as I tear one of those smooth throats of humans, as they are vital for physically sound individuals._

_Why do colonizers colonize countries?_

_Aside from power, aside from domination, aside from building empires, it’s because of tactical positions. Some form of resort when Plan A is failing. One of the probabilities why the imperialist countries reside in their colonies was to be closer to their other imperialist enemies. A tactical move in order to get a better aim to their enemy’s vital part: considerably, the “neck.” I guess it’s called the “neck” because once the opposition manages to tear it down, everything would crumble. Targeting the vital part means targeting its life source._

_If you zoom it in, and take a closer look at the human anatomy, slicing the neck means going for the kill. When I slashed those throats, and when they’re left out in the open with no response to the other members of the community they’re in, they’re as good as food for those vultures. They rot and they die and no one’s there to rescue them. When they’re lifeless, I know I did that. I was responsible for that. And I expand. I grow bigger. I get mightier. I become in control._

_When I hold my weapon, I feel immense power take over my body and I feel invincible. I feel the rush; I feel pleasure seeing the fountain of blood, how it oozes in every side of the body, and how it finds its way to form some sort of dark aura around the unmoving host._

_I know no one can defeat me._

_Only when you succumb to greatness would you feel mighty, and only when you immerse to the light will you feel inferiority._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the feedback!  
> The chapters I publish are not edited, so pardon my grammar. And, English is my second language. If some parts might not be sensible, please bear with me.


	4. Colliding Worlds

Emma Swan had never thought she’d be in this position all her life.

            While she remembers clearly what it’s like to be 4 years old and go through first day of school with no parents fussing and getting all emotional, she's quite sure she prefers that over having to deal with her two sets of families (well, two overbearing mothers to be specific) meeting. The idea of Mary Margaret Blanchard meeting Angela Rizzoli seems to be too much for everybody involved. Of course, Angela wouldn’t know about Mary Margaret or _Snow White_ being Emma’s biological mom, but knowing that Snow is aware that Angela Rizzoli raised Emma…

            Emma completely knows how that would feel, because that’s exactly her position when she first came to Storybrooke. Seeing the mother who raised her child after giving him up was too much for her. She struggled to keep her emotions to herself, but there’d be times when things get too much. That’s when she’d give in to calling her mom. Hearing all of her family’s voices was enough for Emma to keep going. Though, she’d never tell her siblings that, especially Janie. That woman would never let Emma live her life peacefully had she heard that from Emma.

            Emma heard them before she saw them. She’s in a booth in Granny’s together with Charmings, Regina and Henry. Emma had talked to Snow about meeting the Rizzolis, but the brunette insisted that she “wants to meet the family that raised you.”

            Emma’s sent a look to Snow, telling her how she could still back out.

            The brunette just shifted her attention to Neal, telling Emma that she stands her ground. How many times had she missed moments in her daughter’s life? She missed seeing Emma’s hair grow. She missed her first smile, her first laugh, her first word. Snow knows that the woman who stood in her supposed place in Emma’s life hadn’t also witnessed Emma’s firsts, but this woman had seen what Snow had not. That woman had been beside her daughter for most of her life. Maybe staying is one of Snow’s way of sizing up the enemy. But, is she really the enemy?

            Emma feels as if she’s trapped. David and Ruby had told Emma of the times when Snow would lose her temper. Although angry Snow would never be at par with everyday Evil Queen, angry Snow shows potential for reasonable villain. And that says something. It has been years since Emma had accepted Snow as her biological mother. Despite this, there will always be this huge part in Emma’s heart that screams how the mother who gave her away will never be at par with the woman who had accepted her when no one did.

            “Here we go.”

            The bells of the diner’s door rang, and Emma immediately stood up and faced the people entering the diner. Just as she predicted, Angela Rizzoli was the first to enter. Emma noticed how her mother’s hair had garnered more whites, and how more wrinkles in her face had appeared. It had clenched Emma’s heart, as realization blew her away, how her mother is definitely aging. Emma had been away for five years, which she chose to cut contact, to not be there. She had not thought of how by doing that, she lets time eat whatever chance she’d have with her family, with her mother. As time passes, she grows older. But, had she considered that her own mother grows old too? Had she considered how the more time she wastes away from her, the more time would be stolen from what could have been moments consisted of small talks and constant presence with her mother?

Before Emma couldn’t even utter a word, Angela Rizzoli shouted her name in delight and squeezed her in a bear hug.

            “I missed you so much!” Angela was rocking her, as if she was just this ragged lifeless doll. Emma struggled to breath, trying to whisper to the woman how her airways were closing and wouldn’t let her breathe. She blinks away the tears, and even through putting on the mask of protest, she can’t help but savor this incredibly tight hug, and how this fills up the years of the could-have-been hugs she received from her mother.

            “That’s right, Ma! Squeeze that piece of shit tightly!” Emma’s eyes snapped open at the sound of the familiar voice. Angela released Emma which made the blonde automatically gasp for the needed air. She recovered immediately and looked at her sister in pure delight.

            She was exactly as she remembered her. Angela may have been the one who took care of Emma, the one who initially accepted her in the family, but Jane was the one who made Emma feel normal. They both may put up tough exteriors, as they both are eerily similar to each other, but Emma admires her sister a lot. They may go into the usual sibling quarrels, and may be in a lot of misunderstandings, but Jane would always be the role model Emma wishes would be someday proud of her.

            “Janie!”

 

Right when they entered the town, Jane could have sworn something changed in the air. It could have been just the atmosphere of Maine, but she swears something incredibly discomforting sifted through her bones. And, (though she’s fully aware this is an irrational thought) she’s fairly sure it has something to do with Emma “Ugly Duckling” Swan.

            Angela Rizzoli rented a van. The whole gang fitted right into it. As Jane watched the forest surrounding the road, even as they already enter the town, she couldn’t help but snort in disbelief. It’s hard to believe that Emma Swan, the great runner, would settle in a small town that she doubts even Maura’s house could fit right in. Although, she had to admit that the range of trees surprisingly offers suspicious calmness in her.

            “What is it?” Maura asked, lifting her head from Jane’s shoulder. It has been one of the incredibly comfortable road trips she’s been in, well, the _only_ road trip she’s been in and it’s _by far_ the best. She would have bet over the fact that Jane doesn’t appreciate Maine’s cold weather unlike her. Despite knowing that they’re entering the town where they had to help solve a murder case, Maura can’t help but to continue convincing herself that going to Storybrooke would be like a vacation for her and Jane. Surely, cases in small towns aren’t as explicit as those in the cities, right?

            “I just can’t believe Emma would live here—actually _lives_ in here,” Jane mumbled, straightening her body to get a better look of the road ahead of them. All the people inside the van had a hard time convincing Jane to let Frankie take the wheel. Maybe it had something to do with Jane’s obsession on being always in control of everything. “Ma, are you sure this is the place? I mean, it’s been a kilometer and there seems to be no signs of life here.”

            Maura looked around and can’t help but silently agree with Jane. The scenery that surround them—deserted road with enormous and countless trees on both sides—reminded her of the gory movie Jane forced her to watch, something with a “turn” in its title. Despite having to examine the human anatomy every day, and being a witness to the most weird and gruesome fates of a human body, Maura can’t help the shrieks and gasps she elicited throughout the movie.

            Although the trees seem emanate calmness, the place screams danger. Add the fact that when Maura did her pre-travel research about “Storybrooke, Maine,” nothing came out. It was as if the place was only a figment of imagination of… probably, Angela. It wasn’t until she saw the sign of “Welcome to Storybrooke” that she truly believed there’s such a town as this. Still, skepticism would never leave her senses until she sees a living, breathing, and _perfectly civilized_ person.

            After about a quarter of an hour, houses started appearing. And, in just a few minutes, they reached “Granny’s Bed & Breakfast” which, as Maura recalled, was where Emma told Angela she would wait for them.

            The town was incredibly peaceful. Had there not been a few people walking their dogs down the streets and a few jogging, Jane would refuse to believe that the town they just entered was not abandoned. Every establishment screams old. Some would say they were homey, but for someone who just lived her whole life in a city, these houses and stores and shops were way back in the 1980s. It seems as if modernity had avoided this place like a plague.

            “Did we just travel back in time?” Jane wondered out loud. Even the rest of the people in the van were speechless with what they’re seeing. One has to agree that with their backgrounds and their lifestyle in the city, this kind of environment seems to be only reachable through time capsules. The highest establishment seems to be two stories high. Jane thinks that it’s no wonder why Emma Swan needs help solving crimes here. She even wonders how in the hell were this people able to survive without the convenience offered by simply modernity in their lives. Then again, they were in a tightly knit town where even the flies have their own specific groups in which Boston flies would not understand.

            Frankie turned the engine of the van off and they all stepped out. The ambiance was a lot different from the inside of the van. Now that they’re outside, they were able to feel the coldness which seems to be just unique in Storybrooke. Aside from the normal temperature, there something in the air that only humidity could somehow encapsulate.

            “I still can’t believe Emma’s in here. Are you sure it’s Emma you talked to, Ma?” Jane asked, looking at her mother. Angela seems to have entirely lost her focus as she is practically bouncing on the soles of her feet. Jane rolled her eyes. Of course, she wouldn’t entertain any second thoughts right now. She’s going to meet her long lost daughter after years.

            “She did. I also talked to her, Jane,” Korsak said. Jane looked at him and raised a brow. “Well, she’s close to me too, Jane. You’re both like daughters to me.” Korsak shrugged. Although Jane felt a flutter in her heart to be at the end of those words from Korsak, she can’t help but roll her eyes. Korsak just laughed.

            “Are we ready—Are _you_ ready to enter, Angela?” Maura asked, entirely amused at the nerves Angela is sporting. The woman was a ball of excitement and Maura can’t help but acknowledge the unknown feeling in her stomach at the thought of meeting Emma Swan. She had met all of Jane’s brothers and had practically formed a bond with the both of them ( _kissed the both of them_ ), but she’s yet to meet the sister. It’s always hard to meet the sister because as much as she’s a female herself, she had to admit that all their psyches are different and the only similarity was that all are complicated.

            “Hell yes, I am!” Angela exclaimed as they all went up the stairs towards the door of Granny’s. Korsak and Kiki were the last once to walk to the diner as they both organized some of the groups scattered stuffs. After all, it was Vince who has responsibility over the state of the van they rented.

            “Oh God, Emma kept the bug,” Jane whispered to Maura’s ear. Maura looked back and saw an incredibly bright yellow Volkswagen parked near the diner, standing out among the faded colors of the establishments around them. Maura let out a smile, finding the bug completely adoring. As history always fascinated her, she learned to appreciate odd and vintage things. One can never have a wide knowledge without accommodating curiosity as some sort of companion.

            “It’s… cute,” Maura said, smiling at Jane. Maura chuckled as Jane opened her mouth in fake outrage.

            “How—it makes me want to poke my eyes out!” Maura just chuckled and followed Angela entering the diner.

            Everything happened so fast and the next thing Maura knew, Angela was practically squeezing the life out of someone. Had Maura not noticed the arms that were wrapped around Angela in return, Maura would have thought Angela was really killing someone.

            “That’s right, Ma! Squeeze that piece of shit tightly!” Jane hollered. Maura slapped Jane’s arm, horrified at how Jane just shouted in a place where they’re obviously outsiders. It doesn’t take a genius to deduce that tight community comes with small towns. Jane muttered an “ow” and swatted Maura’s hand, glaring at her. Maura glared back, daring her wife to repeat what she just did. Jane just glared at her and rubbed the spot Maura hit.

            “Janie!” Maura turned and finally saw Emma Swan—one without an Angela Rizzoli attached to her. Maura had to admit that the blonde was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. Although dressed differently from Jane, she just carries the same aura as her wife. Even though the sisters do not look alike, when one sees the both of them, it can easily be deduced that both women are somehow related to each other.

            Maura looked at her wife and immediately frowned when she noted the stiffness in Jane’s posture. She reached out for Jane’s arm, wanting to comfort her and ask if everything’s alright. She almost recoiled in shock when she saw Jane’s lower lip tremble. Seemingly as fast as lightning, her wife encased her estranged sister in a hug. Her hold of Jane was immediately broken and she was reduced to watching the scene in front of her unfold.

            Though she had seen the exact reaction of Jane when she first saw Tommy after the man had been released from prison, what she’s currently seeing is somehow different. Right when she thought she’d seen every side of Jane Rizzoli in the five years she’s known her wife, she had yet to see how her wife is as an older sister. Despite the sarcastic remarks Jane has thrown when Emma’s name is brought up in a conversation, she’s relieved that she’s right about theorizing how that was some sort of mechanism Jane formed when dealing with her feelings of missing her younger sister terribly. Maura can’t help but remember Angela saying these words to her. No matter how many times Jane claims to be distant and mean to her sister, in truth, just like the usual Jan Rizzoli, she feels deeply for her sister which says that she misses Emma terribly.

            “Missed you.”

            “Me too.”

            Maura heard both say to each other. Her eyes landed to Angela and she saw the woman struggling to keep up with the flow of her tears. Right before she could walk closer to Angela, she heard Jane say:

            “This is my wife, Maura Isles.” Maura turned to look back at her wife and saw that the two women had broke apart and were now looking at her. Her eyes immediately connected to Emma’s. She immediately noticed the mesmerizing hazel eyes of the blonde. Maura thought that had Emma not been dressed the way she is right now—red leather jacket, white tank top, skinny jeans, she would have passed as a perfect Disney princess.

            “Hi, I’m Emma Swan. Janie’s sister.” Maura looked at Emma’s open palm in front of her and shook it. After two shakes, she was pulled into a hug. Maura’s heart skipped a beat in surprise.

            “Nice to meet you.” Emma pulled back and placed a hand on Maura’s shoulder.

            “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to attend your wedding. I couldn’t leave bec—“

            “It’s alright.” Maura was surprised that Jane interrupted. She looked at her wife but she ended up staring at a smiling Jane whose eyes were looking at her sister. “Though, it’s not so great when my supposed maid of honor-slash-best woman wasn’t beside me.”

            Both smiled at each other and Maura can’t help but get teary at how mushy Jane was being. She had not expected her wife to be this openly soft in front of many people.

            “Frankie! Korsak!” Emma suddenly squealed as soon as the bells of the door rang once again. Maura watched as the blonde ran around in a blur, hugging both Frankie and Korsak. “Oh, God. You have gel on your hair, Frankie! And you groomed your facial hair!”

            Everyone laughed while Frankie grumbled.

            “By the way, this is my wife, Kiki,” Korsak said, placing an arm on Kiki’s shoulders. Emma shook Kiki’s hand. “Kiki, this is Emma. Angela’s other daughter.”

            “Everyone’s introducing wives already. Frankie, you secretly married too?”

            “Actually, Nina’s in Chicago. She can’t go—“

            “You have a wife?!” Emma exclaimed, looking like she’s about to have a heart attack. Frankie laughed and shook his head.

            “Girlfriend.” The blonde let out a visible breath. Then, as if she remembered something, she walked towards a booth and gestured the teenager to go nearer her. The brunette boy stood up and went beside Emma. Maura frowned, immediately feeling that something’s going to happen.

            “Uhm, well, I’m sure you all wonder why I just suddenly disappeared… well, this is Henry—“

            “My grandson?!” Angela shrieked, looking like she’s a bubble about to burst. Before anyone could say anything, a glass broke and everyone turned to look at the brunette woman. She was looking incredibly pale and clammy. The baby she was once holding was taken by the blond man.

            “Mo—Mary Margaret, are you alright?” Emma asked, going near the woman who broke the glass and sitting in the same booth as Henry. Before “Mary Margaret” could say anything, a rather husky voice interrupted.

            “David, maybe you should take Mary Margaret back at your house?” The voice wasn’t suggesting, but was rather insinuating. The blond man—David—nodded his head. The man stood up and carried with one hand the infant and the other guided Mary Margaret out. The husky voiced woman, whose back was turned to all the new comers of the diner, stood up and faced all of them. Maura had to admit she’s rather impressed with how the woman managed to impose authority by just standing up. Everything about the Latina woman screams “regal.” She held a rather politician-looking smile. The way she dressed and the way she was groomed demanded respect.

Maura can’t help but notice how the woman placed a hand on Henry’s shoulder.

            “I’m sorry about that. Why don’t you all sit down? I’m sure all of you are tired from the travel.” Maura can’t help but notice how everyone were quiet and followed, including herself, what the dark-haired woman said.

            “By the way, I’m Regina Mills, mayor of Storybrooke.”


End file.
